George Regas

I was a seminarian when George Regas came out to "the farm teams" to "scout for candidates for the Big League" to work with him at All Saints', Pasadena. It was part of his "East Coast Swing" of interviewing seminaries to select one or possibly two candidates for Assistant to the Rector.

 

I was deeply flattered to have been asked to consider the position but I couldn't imagine how we'd work out all the logistics of moving our rather large family all the way across the country. Ms. Conroy wisely advised that I should "go and see" and if this was an actual call, a way would open where there presently seemed to be none.

 

There's no denying that ASP was, in the words of my bishop when I described it to him, "a social justice candy store." My gracious! There was deep engagement by this congregation on all the major issues of justice - including the most controversial one of LGBTQ rights and rites and the as yet to emerge, important but not yet as visible one of immigration.

 

That was clearly due to the leadership of the Rector, George Regas. I fell in love with him and his obviously prophetic ministry. I also fell in love with this congregation and their passion and commitment to the call of Jesus to do this work of ministry. 

 

They had the sort of "fire in the belly" I could only dream of in a congregation. George had not only inspired them, he equipped them with the tools they needed to do this ministry. Most importantly, they were all grounded in prayer.

 

Here's what tipped the scales: I was there on Shrove Tuesday and there was a wonderful, lively, joyful Pancake Supper in the Parish Hall. After most everyone had finished their supper, George got up and said a few words and then asked, "Do you know what tomorrow is? Do you know why tomorrow is such an important day?"

 

Someone in the back gave a muted response that it was Ash Wednesday. George's voice boomed in the Parish Hall, "That's right! Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday."

At which point, the insistent voice of a little girl could be heard over his voice and the murmur of the crowd: "No, Grampa. No, no, no."

 

A very loud hush fell over the parish hall as George moved closer to his granddaughter. "No?" he said, "Tomorrow is not Ash Wednesday?"

 

"No, silly," she giggled. "Tomorrow is Wednesday and Wednesday is ballet!"

At which point, he scooped her up and they both giggled and snuggled and laughed and, in that moment, every heart in that room, including mine, was stolen.

 

As it turned out, a way didn't open and I wasn't able to join George and ASP. I told him that before he even offered me the position because I felt I owed him that information. I don't know if he was thinking of offering me the position, but he was wonderful in making me think he was disappointed but understanding.

 

I know I made the right decision for my family, and I don't have many regrets, but I do wish I could have worked with this most amazing man. He was a prophet because he was a pastor and a pastor because he was a prophet. By that I mean that his pastor's heart listened to and heard the cry of the people God sent him to tend to, and that drove him to prophetic work, to change systems of oppression and injustice. The more prophetic work he did, the various different cries came to his the ears of his heart which drove him to more pastoral work.

 

As you will read in his obituary, George died Monday at age 90. His wife of 44 years, Mary, was by his side. He had a great run.

 

There is a large tear in the veil created when his spirit, his light, left this mortal coil to go home to Jesus.

 

In my religious imagination, there is an incredible thing that happens when amazing and amazed souls like George return to their Creator. In the mind of my soul and the eye of my heart, there is a moment of darkness as these brilliant souls pass through the veil but that creates an opening for more points of light to pass through from the Creator to continue the work that Jesus, the Light of the World, was sent to do.

 

George's light continues to shine in the heavens. I imagine him now, having brunch with Louie Clay Crew and Harvey Milk and playing tennis with Ruth Bader Ginsberg. I have no doubt he went directly to talk with Martin Luther King, Jr. who was hanging out with Barbara Harris and Pauley Murray, Eleanor Rosevelt and Cesar Chavez, Gandhi and Mother Teresa and that those of the Philadelphia Eleven who are among the heavenly chorus were among the first in line to welcome him through the Gates.

 

Shine on, George. Shine on! And, thank you. From my heart and for so many, many others, thank you.